The jagged peaks of the northern mountains loomed ahead, their snow-capped summits piercing the twilight sky like the teeth of some ancient beast. The air grew thinner and colder with each step, the wind howling through the rocky passes as though warning the travelers of the perils ahead. Adrian Felton led the way, his boots crunching against the frost-covered stone, the Evermark pulsing faintly beneath his sleeve with a rhythm that mirrored his heartbeat. Beside him walked Lina, her crystal pendant glowing softly against her chest, casting a gentle light that cut through the gathering dusk. Carl followed close behind, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air as he scribbled notes in his weathered journal, determined to document every detail of their journey to the Tower of Wisdom.

  The trio had set out from Elaine’s sanctuary beneath the Shimmering Lake just hours ago, her parting words still echoing in Adrian’s mind: “The Circle will not relent. They sense the Tower’s awakening window as keenly as we do. Be prepared—they will strike when you least expect it.” Her tide-shifting eyes had held a mixture of resolve and sorrow as she’d pledged to return to her boundary stone after ensuring their safe entry into the Tower. Three days remained until the accessibility window Elaine had pinpointed, and thirty-seven until the Circle’s Grand Convergence ritual reached its climax. Time was a relentless foe, pressing them forward even as the terrain grew more treacherous.

  The path narrowed as they ascended a steep incline, the rocky ledge barely wide enough for single-file passage. To their left, a sheer drop plunged into a shadowed ravine, its depths obscured by swirling mist. To their right, a wall of jagged stone rose sharply, offering little purchase for hands or feet. Adrian’s senses, sharpened by his repeated deaths and resurrections, prickled with unease. The Evermark’s warmth flared briefly against his skin—a warning, subtle but unmistakable. He raised a hand, signaling the others to halt.

  “Something’s wrong,” he murmured, his voice low and taut. His eyes scanned the ridgeline above, searching for movement amidst the craggy outcrops. The wind carried a faint metallic tang, a scent he recognized from battlefields long past: blood and steel.

  Lina stepped closer, her light intensifying as she gripped her crystal pendant. “I feel it too,” she whispered. “A shadow… moving toward us.”

  Before Carl could respond, a sharp crack split the air—a crossbow bolt striking the stone inches from Adrian’s head, sending shards of rock flying. He ducked instinctively, drawing his blade as shouts erupted from the ridgeline. Dark figures clad in black robes materialized against the twilight, their silhouettes stark against the fading light. The Circle had found them.

  “Ambush!” Adrian roared, shoving Lina behind him as he raised his sword to deflect another bolt. Carl scrambled for cover behind a boulder, clutching his journal to his chest as though it were a shield. The attackers descended with ruthless precision, their movements coordinated and swift. Six in total, armed with crossbows and curved daggers that gleamed with an unnatural sheen—blades infused with void energy, Adrian realized, designed to disrupt elemental power.

  The first assailant reached him, a wiry man with hollow eyes and a snarl twisting his scarred face. Adrian parried the dagger thrust aimed at his chest, the clash of steel ringing out over the wind. Flames flickered along his blade as he channeled the Evermark’s power, a skill honed through weeks of training with Elarala. The fire met the void-infused dagger, sparking violently as the two energies collided. With a swift twist, Adrian drove his sword upward, piercing the man’s chest. The assailant crumpled, black blood staining the frost beneath him.

  But there was no time to catch his breath. Two more closed in, one from each side, their daggers slashing in unison. Adrian spun, deflecting one strike while dodging the other, but the narrow ledge left little room to maneuver. Behind him, Lina cried out—a bolt had grazed her shoulder, her light faltering for a moment as pain disrupted her focus. Carl, ever resourceful, hurled a fist-sized rock at one of the attackers, striking the man’s temple and buying Adrian a fleeting reprieve.

  “Stay back!” Adrian shouted to Lina, his voice raw with urgency. He lunged at the nearest foe, flames erupting from his blade in a searing arc. The fire engulfed the robed figure, who screamed as he stumbled backward, tumbling over the ledge into the abyss below. But the second attacker was faster, his dagger finding Adrian’s side in a vicious thrust. Pain exploded through him, white-hot and blinding, as the void energy seeped into the wound, clawing at the Evermark’s fire like a living thing.

  Adrian staggered, blood soaking his tunic, but he forced himself to remain upright. The Evermark pulsed wildly, its crimson glow visible through his torn sleeve as it fought to counter the void’s corruption. He swung his sword in a desperate arc, catching the attacker across the throat. The man gurgled and fell, but not before a third assailant—an archer perched on the ridgeline—loosed another bolt. This one struck true, burying itself deep in Adrian’s chest, just below his collarbone.

  Time slowed. The world tilted as his knees buckled, the sword slipping from his grasp to clatter against the stone. Lina’s scream echoed in his ears, distant and distorted, as darkness clawed at the edges of his vision. He felt the Evermark flare one last time, a defiant surge of heat against the cold encroaching from within. Then, nothing.

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  Death came swiftly, as it always did—a familiar abyss, cold and silent, yet threaded with the faint promise of return. How many times had he crossed this threshold now? Three? Four? Each passage left its mark, not just on his body but on his soul, reshaping him in ways he could barely comprehend. In the void, he drifted, weightless and unmoored, the pain of his wounds a distant memory. The Evermark’s rhythm persisted, a lifeline tethering him to existence, its silver and crimson threads weaving through the darkness like a beacon.

  Then, something shifted. The void was no longer empty. Faint shapes shimmered into being—ethereal outlines, translucent and fleeting, like reflections on water. Souls, he realized, or echoes of them, caught in the liminal space between life and death. One figure drew closer, its form more defined than the others. A woman, her silhouette framed by a soft, radiant glow. Her face was blurred, but her presence carried a weight of familiarity that pierced through the haze of Adrian’s fading consciousness.

  “Elarala?” he whispered, though no sound escaped his lips in this soundless realm. The figure inclined its head, as if in acknowledgment, and reached out a hand. Her touch was not physical but a surge of energy—warm, luminous, and unmistakably hers. It flowed into the Evermark, igniting its crimson core with renewed vigor. Memories flickered through Adrian’s mind: Elarala’s lessons in the valley, her sacrifice at the refuge, the pendant she’d pressed into his hand with her final breath. “Find the Tower,” she’d said. “It’s the key.”

  The void receded, pushed back by the Evermark’s awakening power. Light flooded his senses, sharp and searing, as life clawed its way back into his body. He gasped, his chest heaving as air rushed into his lungs, the pain of his wounds returning with brutal clarity. He was on his back, the cold stone of the ledge pressing against him, Lina’s tear-streaked face hovering above. Her hands pressed against his chest, her crystal pendant blazing as she poured light into him, amplifying the Evermark’s healing surge.

  “Adrian! Stay with me!” Her voice trembled, but her resolve held firm. The bolt was gone, forced out by the combined power of their marks, though blood still seeped from the wound. Carl knelt nearby, his hands shaking as he fumbled with a makeshift bandage torn from his cloak.

  “I’m… here,” Adrian rasped, his voice rough as gravel. He pushed himself up, ignoring the protest of his battered body. The Evermark pulsed beneath his sleeve, its pattern altered yet again—silver now interwoven with deeper crimson veins, like roots spreading through soil. But something new stirred within him, a sensation beyond the physical. He blinked, and for a moment, the world shimmered with ghostly overlays—faint, translucent figures drifting at the edges of his vision. The fallen Circle assassins lingered as pale echoes, their forms dissipating like mist. And there, beyond Lina and Carl, stood Elarala’s silhouette once more, her blurred features watching him with quiet approval before fading into the twilight.

  “Adrian?” Lina’s voice snapped him back. “What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head, the vision clearing. “I saw them,” he said hoarsely. “The dead. Their souls… I could see them. Elarala was there.”

  Lina’s eyes widened, her crystal pulsing in sync with her quickening breath. “Your mark—it’s changed again. What does it mean?”

  “It means he’s evolving faster than expected,” Carl interjected, his scholarly tone laced with awe. “The Evermark’s integration is accelerating, unlocking abilities tied to its deeper purpose. Seeing souls… that’s unprecedented, even in the oldest texts.”

  Adrian clenched his fist, feeling the mark’s heat radiate through his arm. “It’s not just me,” he said, glancing at Lina. “Your light—it’s stronger too.”

  She frowned, then raised her hand experimentally. A shimmering shield of light materialized, no longer a faint glow but a solid, tangible barrier that pulsed with energy. It hovered before them, its surface rippling like water yet firm as steel. Lina gasped, lowering her hand, and the shield dissipated into motes of luminescence.

  “Entity shields,” Carl muttered, scribbling furiously in his journal. “Light affinity manifesting physical form. Remarkable.”

  The wind shifted, carrying the distant sound of footsteps—more Circle reinforcements approaching from the pass below. Adrian forced himself to his feet, retrieving his sword with a grimace. The pain was a dull roar, but the Evermark’s power dulled it enough to keep him moving. “We can’t stay here,” he said, his voice steady despite the strain. “They’ll keep coming.”

  Lina nodded, wiping her eyes as she stood beside him. “The Tower’s close—I can feel it. The pendant’s pulling us north.”

  Carl tucked his journal away, adjusting his spectacles with a determined air. “Then we press on. The Circle’s desperate to stop us, which means we’re on the right path.”

  Adrian scanned the ridgeline, the ghostly echoes of the dead fading completely from his sight. The ability was new, unsettling, but it carried a strange comfort—Elarala’s presence, however fleeting, had bolstered his resolve. He sheathed his sword, the Evermark’s warmth a constant reminder of his purpose. “Let’s move,” he said, leading them deeper into the mountains.

  The path ahead was shrouded in shadow, the wind’s howl growing fiercer as night descended fully. The Circle’s pursuit was relentless, their black-robed figures a constant threat lurking in the darkness. But Adrian pressed forward, the Evermark guiding him as much as the pendant in his hand. Each death and awakening drew him closer to the truth—of his mark, of the Covenant, of the Tower that awaited them. And now, with the ability to glimpse the souls of the departed, he felt a new connection to the past, a bridge between the living and the dead that might yet prove vital in the battles to come.

  The northern mountains stretched endlessly before them, their peaks a silent promise of sanctuary and revelation. Three days remained until the Tower’s window opened, and thirty-seven until the world’s fate hung in the balance. Time was their enemy, but so too was it their ally—for with each step, Adrian and his companions grew stronger, their powers awakening in ways even the Circle could not foresee.